


Cinderella, the Being Human Story

by frankie_mcstein



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: F/M, George Rocks, Nina is awesome, Sword fighting!Mitchell, disney type happy ending, fairy tale AU, i cant tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 17:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankie_mcstein/pseuds/frankie_mcstein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time there lived an evil King and his wicked Queen. They don't feature much in this, but their son does.<br/>There was also a good man and his daughter and his wicked second wife and her daughters. He doesn't feature much, but the women do.<br/>There was a ball and a battle and a lost shoe and, finally, a new chapter in every one's story</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cinderella, the Being Human Story

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this came from but the idea would not let me go. Literally. I dreamt some of this and scribbled furiously as soon as I woke up so I wouldn't lose anything.  
> Thanks, as always, to Diner Guy for the beta. She owns all remaining mistakes.

Cinderella, the Being Human Story.

 

The Players

The Heroes  
Mitchell- A charming Prince  
Annie- A beautiful maid  
George- A good friend  
Nina- A clever wife

The Villains  
Janey- A wicked stepmother  
Lucy- A wicked stepsister  
Daisy- A wicked stepsister  
Herrick- A wicked King  
Cara- A wicked Queen

 

Once upon a time, a long time ago, in a land far, far away, there lived a man and his wife. The man was kind and his wife was gentle, and they had a happy life on their estate. One day, not long after their friends and family celebrated their marriage, the wife announced her pregnancy, and all who knew the couple joined in their merriment.

But dark times were ahead, for the good lady was stricken with a mysterious illness during the final month of her pregnancy and by the time the child was born, the mother was too weak to survive. And so a dark cloud descended upon the household.

A few years passed and then, believing that his young daughter needed a motherly influence, the good man remarried a local beauty who herself was recently widowed, but the lady’s beautiful face hid a cruel heart. A few short months after the marriage, the good man died most suddenly, leaving his poor daughter alone in the world, with no one but her stepmother Janey, and her stepsisters Lucy and Daisy.

As time passed, Janey’s true colours become more and more apparent; her attitude towards her step-daughter was one of hatred and she encouraged her spoilt daughters to act as hideously as they knew how towards their step-sister. The poor child was stripped of everything that should have been hers; she was forced to live in the long-disused servants’ quarters, nothing more now than a small hovel attached to the stables, and made to do the work of the entire household staff.

Lucy and Daisy refused to address their half-sister by her given name; encouraged by their mother they started calling her Cinderella, for in the mornings her face would be streaked with soot from huddling close to the fire as she slept. They refused to give her even their old, torn, or ill-fitting clothes, leaving her to clothe herself in patchwork dresses she sewed late at night from whatever cast off material she could find.

One day, a week or so after her fourteenth birthday, she went upstairs to wake Lucy and Daisy to find her stepmother already in the girl’s room, the girls already awake, and all three of them looking scared. She lingered in the doorway as they spoke in whispers about the news that was sweeping through their small village.

Up at the palace King Herrick and Queen Cara had ruled with iron fists for years, terrorising the neighbouring villages and constantly skirting the risk of outright war. The taxes they demanded were hideously unfair and many of the poorer farmers had been forced to rely upon the kindness of their family and friends to survive. Everyone had hoped that the birth of their son would mellow the regents’ harsh attitudes, but, to everyone’s dismay, it seemed to only have reinforced their attitudes towards their people.

The king and queen, far from teaching their son be a fair and gracious ruler, had thrown themselves into teaching him how to be cruel and cold. And for years after the child was born, it looked as though they would be successful; the boy was haughty and wild and seemed to enjoy causing misery for the people he would one day rule.

Then, on the boy’s eleventh birthday, King Herrick had announced that they were hiring a new advisor to serve the prince, and to act as regent in the event of the untimely death of both himself and his Queen. He was introduced to them as George, but they would obviously be expected to call him Sir Sands should they ever have any contact with him. The villagers had worried over the new advisor and the influence he would have over their young prince, but nothing really seemed to have changed. The years until the prince’s sixteenth birthday passed in misery and terror, but ultimately uneventfully.

That morning as Janey and her daughters huddled on the one bed, terrified beyond belief, news had spread that the prince, with the help of his advisor, had organised a coup; he had dethroned his parents, killing his mother in the process. A few hours later it emerged that King Herrick and Queen Cara, frustrated with their son’s growing attachment to his people, had tried to kill the prince, only to be stopped at the last second by Sir Sands.

For the rest of the day the villagers locked themselves in their houses, fearing a riot from the army, or an invasion from neighbouring forces acting upon their weakened state. The following morning, however, royal heralds walked the streets, summoning people to the town square where the young prince was waiting.

He told them that his parents’ reign of terror was over, that he had no intention of continuing to make life so hard for his people. He announced the arrival of royal parties from each of the neighbouring kingdoms and said they would be creating peace treaties and trade agreements in the hopes of fixing the mess his parents had created. His words were greeted with cheers and were followed by a public declaration of loyalty from the army’s commanding officers.

The last thing the prince said was that he was turning over control of his kingdom to his regent until he felt he was ready to become the King his people deserved. George, as he begged everyone to call him, was greeted with more cheers and he wasted no time in making his first official announcement: a village-wide celebration to mark the occasion of his engagement.

In front of the suddenly euphoric crowd, George took the hand of a young local woman, Nina, the daughter of the local surgeon, and the resulting party lasted for three days. But once the festivities ended, things returned to normal for poor Cinderella. While the others in the village were rejoicing over the new trade routes, the reduced taxes, the lowered tithes, Cinderella’s life was as dismal as it had been before.

It made no difference to her if George and Nina were creating historical acts of legal equality for rich and poor, or if Prince Mitchell himself were seen mucking in with the farm hands on some of the poorer estates. All she cared about was keeping her step-family as happy as she could in the vain hope that one day they would realise they were mistaken for treating her as they did. As the years passed, as George and Nina celebrated wedding anniversaries with parties she never saw, as Prince Mitchell’s appearances in public became less frequent, she forgot she had once had a loving parent who had called her by a different name, and Annie became resigned to being Cinderella.

***

Three years after the coup that had rid the village of the tyrant Herrick and his cruel Queen Cara, on the Prince’s nineteenth birthday, heralds once again strolled the streets, announcing to everyone that George and Nina, frustrated by Prince Mitchell’s unwillingness to choose a suitable bride, were throwing a ball at the palace, and commanding every eligible woman from every local kingdom to attend.

Janey immediately ordered Cinderella to start mending every old dress that her daughters would still fit into while Lucy and Daisy, now young woman of seventeen and sixteen, went into a shopping frenzy that would see several shopkeepers well-fed throughout the entire winter.

On the morning of the ball, the two sisters decided there were more accessories without which they simply couldn’t be seen at the palace, and they dragged Cinderella away from her chores to carry their purchases as they trawled the high street.

“I saw Prince Mitchell just last week, riding out with a hunting party into the western woods,” Daisy babbled happily, casting sideward looks at Lucy to see if her sister looked jealous. “So dashing he looked, all in blue and silver.”

Not to be outdone, Lucy immediately started talking about how she had seen the Prince just the previous day, “walking with a young woman down the cherry blossom avenue. I thought he seemed quite taken with her, but obviously he was simply being polite. He was wearing red as I recall, made his lovely dark hair stand out.”

“Dark?” Daisy laughed with a smirk. “His hair is blonde, very blonde, and so curly. He wouldn’t look good in red at all.”

“It’s straight and dark,” retorted Lucy in an arch tone. “I don’t know who you stood gawking at, but it couldn’t have been him.” The argument would have escalated, neither girl caring that they were standing in the middle of the high street, had they not been distracted by Cinderella, who had been tagging along behind them the entire day, dropping all the bags and parcels they had loaded into her arms.

“Cinderella!” they screamed in twin expressions of rage and annoyance.

“For goodness sake, do I have to carry my own bags to ensure I get my things back home in one piece?” This from Lucy who seemed to be vying with Daisy on who could shout an insult at their stepsister the loudest.

“You useless lump!” shrieked Daisy. “How hard can it be to carry a few little bags?”

Both fell silent at the same time as a young man stepped towards them.

“It was my fault entirely,” he said, holding up his hands in an apologetic gesture. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and walked straight into this poor young lady.” He turned and held out a hand to Cinderella, who was still sitting on the ground. She took the offered hand gingerly, not used to someone reaching out to her without wanting to hurt her.

The man pulled her gently to her feet and then bent down to collect the various bags and packages she had been trying to carry, while she stood uncertainly and Lucy and Daisy watched in hope the young man would start talking to them again. It soon became obvious he wasn’t at all interested in either of them; after handing two of the bags back to Cinderella, he gave her a bright smile that made her knees feel weak.

“I’m really sorry, Miss,” he said, his voice carrying a gentle lilt that made all three of the girls sigh to themselves. “Let me help you with these.” And he smiled again, eliciting a small smile from Cinderella in response. She half-expected him to laugh and throw the bags back to the ground, but instead he threw a quick look over his shoulder at the stunned sisters.

“Are you girls nearly done?” not sounding at all like he really cared. The two exchanged a look that clearly said they were not at all happy with how things were turning out. Despite their foul personalities, they were reasonably pretty to look at and their inheritance would be sizeable; they were used to men of most ages paying them the most complimentary attention.

They led the way home as quickly as they could without actually breaking into a run, but the young man didn’t seem at all bothered and walked at an easy pace, hanging back with Cinderella, chatting quietly to her. At one point she even giggled at something he said, and, looking back, Daisy saw a smile on his face that made it look as though her small laugh had pleased him more than anything else that day.

Cinderella knew she was being foolish; she should have shooed the man away, insisted she didn’t need any help and that there was nothing for which to apologise, but her mind had deserted her in a rush of electricity when their hands touched. By the time she caught up with events, they were already strolling side by side down the street. From the set of their shoulders, Cinderella could tell that her stepsisters were furious, and she knew she would be punished for this man’s attention, even though she had done nothing to encourage it.

But she couldn’t care about what her malicious family was going to do while she was so entranced by the young man walking next to her; his eyes kept sliding away from the pavement and up to her face, and whenever she caught him staring he would smile and look away again; he didn’t seem to notice that she was staring at him as often as she dared as well.

His hair was resting just above his shoulders and so curly that she longed to brush the errant locks away from his bright eyes. She couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes shone when he smiled, or the way his sleeves hung off his muscled arms, or the way the curve of his backside tensed as he walked… She caught herself before her imagination started to run away with her and forced herself to stop looking at him; thoughts like that were not going to help her deal with her life. She wasn’t even sure it was legal for her to be staring at this obviously upper class man’s bottom.

They reached the front door and Lucy and Daisy walked straight in, calling for their mother as they did. The man stood politely on the doorstep and let Cinderella take the bags off him a few at a time and pile them in the hallway, then stood in silence after she took the last parcel off him.

“I enjoyed our chat,” he said finally, clearly hoping for some sort of reply. She managed a nod, fixing her eyes on the floor.

‘Please just go,’ she pleaded, mentally. ‘Please don’t let Janey catch you here, it’ll only make it worse for me!’ She risked a glance up at him and felt her heart break at the look of confusion on his face.

‘Great, now he’s going to leave thinking he’s offended you!’ she wailed to herself, focused on keeping her face straight. She didn’t even realise her stepmother had come down the stairs until the woman spoke.

“Well, my daughters told me had a visitor. How do you do, sir?” and she pushed past Cinderella to hold out a heavily ringed hand. He took her hand and bowed over it gracefully, and Cinderella, watching from under the lids of her lowered eyes wished with all her might it could be her hand he was holding.

“I apologise for appearing on your doorstep like this, Ma’am,” the stranger said, letting go of her hand and stepping back. “I bumped into your serving girl and felt I couldn’t possibly walk away without helping her get her load home; after all, I could have injured her.”

“Cinderella, are you injured?” Janey called over her shoulder. It was obvious she didn’t give a damn.

If Cinderella had dared to look, she would have seen the man’s expression darken at her stepmother’s casual tone. Instead she kept her eyes fixed on the floor, muttered a quiet ‘no’, and fled to the kitchen. She heard the front door close seconds later and braced herself for what was to follow.

Sure enough, Janey walked into the kitchen, followed by Lucy and Daisy, and all three of them looked furious.

“How dare you?” Janey asked, her voice deadly smooth. “You steal that man’s attention away from my daughters like you actually believe you’re worth something.” She took a step closer, enjoying the way Cinderella cringed away from her. “Only one of my girls can marry Prince Mitchell, which means I still need to find a suitable husband for the other. How can I do that when they have to compete with a whore like you?”

Cinderella gasped at the injustice of the remark and actually opened her mouth to reply, but Janey slapped her hard across the face before she could.

“That poor man humiliated himself doing the job of a servant because of you; you demeaned him! Did you tell him you would take him into the stables once you got back?”

“No!” Cinderella cried, and Janey hit her again, hard enough to make her bite the inside of her lip. For a second Janey looked taken aback at the sight of the blood, then she smirked.

“If I can’t trust you not to go out in public without acting like such a harlot, I just don’t have any choice but to keep you from leaving this house.” She turned and walked back to the door, Daisy and Lucy smirking before they turned and walked away too.

“Oh, and Cinderella?” Janey called sweetly, turning back to her. “Don’t take too long putting all these new things away; my daughters will need your help getting ready for the ball tonight.” She swept out of the room, slamming the door, leaving Cinderella shaking behind her.

***

“You know, even you need a little time to get ready for a ball.” George was annoyed and not making any attempt to hide it. “You could at least have let someone know where you were going; we had the staff searching for you for hours.”

“I wanted some air.”

“You couldn’t get air in the gardens?”

“Not without seeing the preparations for this torturous event.” Mitchell’s voice was flat and George sighed, throwing a desperate look Nina’s way.

“Look, Mitchell, I’m sorry. I know you hate things like this…”

“Then why are you so determined to make me attend this voyeuristic affair?” The young prince threw himself into a chair to the despair of the valet who had been trying valiantly to get him dressed. Nina smiled apologetically at the man as he carefully laid the prince’s shirt over the back of the couch in the corner, exaggerating every movement before walking out of the room.

Mitchell watched him leave with an odd expression on his face.

“I’ll apologise when he comes back,” he said, shifting his gaze to stare out of the window. He lifted his hand to lips and chewed absentmindedly on his thumbnail, a habit he had developed as a child and never successfully managed to break. George and Nina watched him for a nearly a minute, but he didn’t so much as blink. Finally Nina stood.

“I’ll go check everything’s moving along nicely,” she said before leaving the two men alone. King Herrick had hired George to give his son someone to bully, but instead the two had formed a close friendship. Nina knew Mitchell would trust her husband with things he would never dream of telling someone else.

“Mitchell? What’s wrong?” George fixed a look of vague concern on his face, knowing Mitchell hated to worry him and more than willing to play on that if it meant he got an answer. “I know you don’t like the idea of this ball, but you know that you have to marry to assume your throne, so I don’t think that’s the problem.”

Sure enough Mitchell turned to face him and sighed. “I met someone today - sort of. I walked into her on the high street, helped her carry her bags home.” George leant forwards in his chair; Mitchell had attracted a lot of female attention over the years but had never seemed interested in returning it.

“I thought we were getting on well but…when we got back to her place of work she…” He trailed off and George pounced.

“Place of work? She’s a bar wench?”

“Servant, I think.”

“Pretty?”

“Gorgeous.”

“You talked?”

“A little.”

“So, what happened?” George watched as Mitchell’s face darkened and felt a pang of sympathy for his friend.

“I don’t know. We got back, and she wouldn’t even look at me. It was like I wasn’t even there.” His voice was full of confusion, and there was a look of very real pain on his face. George suddenly wished Nina had stayed in the room.

“I suppose she must be betrothed to someone and didn’t want him to think she was flirting with another man,” he suggested finally, and Mitchell winced at the thought. Silence fell between them that wasn’t broken until a quiet knock at the door signalled the return of the valet.

Mitchell stayed where he was, slumped in the chair, the very picture of dejection, leaving George to open the door.

“I’ll leave you to get dressed,” he said, backing out of the door, hating that his friend had finally found someone he liked only to lose her again so quickly.

“George?” Mitchell’s voice was toneless, but there was a look on his face that made George’s stomach churn. “I’ll find someone at the ball tonight; you don’t need to worry.”

“Mitchell…” But Mitchell was already following his valet into his dressing room. George left with a sinking feeling that he was doing the wrong thing, but the law was quite clear. Thanks to the circumstances surrounding the end of King Herrick’s reign, the Prince must marry before ascending to the throne, and as happy as the people were with the job he and Nina were doing, they were getting impatient to see their prince crowned. He went off in search of his wife, suddenly desperate for her assurances that they weren’t forcing their friend into a loveless marriage.

He found her in the gardens, speaking with two of the guards in worried tones. As he walked up to them she turned and dragged him into the conversation.

“There are whisperings in two of the outlying kingdoms,” she said, sounding scared. “A small force, loyal to King Herrick, plans on storming the ball tonight and making an attempt on Mitchell’s life.”

Five minutes later off duty guards were being summoned to their posts and men from three of the neighbouring kingdoms were being dispatched to increase security. After a brief discussion, George decided they should keep the news of the threat away from the ears of the prince; from Mitchell’s mood, the prince might well have decided to attend the ball in battle armour.

And so, while armed forces were being discreetly stationed around the palace grounds and within the village itself, Prince Mitchell was doing his best to shake off the odd feeling that had been lingering about him since that afternoon. The walk back to that girl’s house had only taken a few minutes, but he had really enjoyed himself, really liked her, and the way she had acted when she had stepped inside that house, like she was embarrassed to be seen with him…

He forced himself to stop thinking about her. No doubt George was right; she was engaged already and he had been a fool to read so much into a three minute, mostly one-way conversation. And yet he couldn’t stop his heart from literally aching at the thought of not seeing her again.

The valet, seeing he wasn’t going to get any further in his efforts to get the prince to put his jacket on, left with a bow and a not so carefully concealed shake of the head and Mitchell wandered over the to window, staring out over the rooftops of his village. He wasn’t being fair to anyone and he knew it; George and Nina didn’t want to rule his kingdom forever, and his people deserved a king.

‘One more minute,’ he told himself firmly. ‘One more minute to dream.’

Prince Mitchell counted the seconds carefully and filled his mind with the image of the woman whose name he hadn’t even thought to ask. Then, as the sixtieth second ticked away, he turned away from the window.

‘Time for duty,’ he told himself. He took a deep breath and fixed a smile on his face. If his eyes looked dull or his smile occasionally slipped, he knew no one would ever say anything. He made his way down to the great hall where the first of his ‘guests’ were already starting trickle in.

The decorators had done an amazing job; there were so many candles and silk hangings, the hall looked almost magical. As he entered, the orchestra started to play their first waltz of what promised to be one of the longest nights in history.

***

The house was so silent now that her stepfamily had stopped screaming at her and each other that for a while Cinderella felt unsettled by the quiet. The entire afternoon had been spent running up and down stairs as Daisy and Lucy tried desperately to outdo each other under the smiling gaze of Janey, who kept giving them advice like, “Try not to talk too much; you don’t want to scare the prince with your intelligence.” Personally, Cinderella didn’t think there was any chance of that ever being an issue.

Almost as if she could hear Cinderella’s thoughts, Janey started inventing more and more tasks for her to do, and by the time the carriage arrived to take them, fashionably late, to the palace, Cinderella was sweeping the kitchen hearth, soot streaking her face and clothes.

She kept working, even after the door slammed shut, trying to keep her mind off the ball; she was still an eligible young lady, even if she were little more than a slave to her stepmother. She was sure there was a law against disobeying royal commands, but trying to get anyone to believe that she should be at the ball would be impossible and she knew it. The idea of a prince wanting to even be in the same room as a girl like her was ridiculous.

But that man from earlier... under wildly different circumstances, she might have had some sort of chance for happiness with him. He seemed kind and warm, and just remembering the way he smiled at her made her heart flutter in her chest. Her hands finally fell still as her mind started working, jumping from one thought to the next; despite being a matchmaking endeavour, this ball was still the only social event that was really going to matter for the entire year, she had heard Lucy say so.

So, maybe he would be there? Maybe, if she could get there, she could catch a glance of him? Just one more look, one more precious memory to lock away and cling to. What harm could one glance do? It wasn’t like she was going to try to dance with the Prince after all; she just wanted one second where she could believe happiness was waiting for her.

And just like that, before she even knew she was moving, she was running up the stairs to the attic where her stepsisters kept all their clothes that were more than six months old. She knew there were at least a dozen in there that had never been worn, and after a few minutes she had found something perfect. She forced herself to take a few minutes (and some of Lucy’s hair products) to add a semblance of order to her naturally curly hair, pulled on a pair of shoes, and ran out the front door, tugging on the elbow length gloves as she went.

It took longer than she had expected to get the palace gates and she was scared the guards would refuse to let her in, but they took one look at her and ushered her on through. She fought back a sigh of relief as she followed a small group of young women along a path and into the palace itself. She wasn’t sure how they knew where to go, but after taking a few turns, they vanished through a doorway. She caught a glimpse of dancing couples before turning away to catch her suddenly racing breath.

The orchestra was playing gently and she forced herself to time her breathing to match the beat of the music, slowly calming herself. She took one last deep breath, and then she turned back to the doorway and walked slowly through, finding herself at the top of a grand staircase lined with candles and flowers. No one paid much attention to her as she walked down the stairs and she was concentrating too hard on not tripping over her hem or slipping in her shoes to worry about looking for her mysterious stranger, but as soon as she was safely at the foot of the stairs, she immediately started scanning the crowd.

With so many people dancing and so many groups constantly forming and breaking and reforming, it was impossible to find one person; no matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t even pick her step-sisters out of the crowd. It never occurred to her to look up to the platform where George and Nina were sitting, looking with worried expressions at the young man sitting on the floor by their feet.

“You don’t have to pick someone tonight, Mitchell,” Nina was saying, although for all the reaction she got, she might as well be talking to a bedpost. She glanced at George and tried again. “This was just an idea, not an ultimatum.”

Still nothing. If anything, Mitchell’s expression became even more wooden, and he turned away from them slightly.

“It’s time for me to take my rightful place as King and to do that I need a queen,” he said, sounding like he was reciting a lesson. George was about to try his luck when Mitchell suddenly sat up straight, a look of shock on his face. His eyes were fixed on something in the crowd but try as they might, neither George nor Nina could work out who or what had grabbed his attention, and before they had a chance to ask, Mitchell had slid off the raised platform and was making his way through the crowd.

They watched with interest as he crossed the crowded room and stopped in front of a young woman in a dove grey dress.

“Hello again,” he said, trying not to smile like a mentally unsound man and thinking he might just be failing. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here; did your betrothed accompany you?” He was going for casual, and failed so epically he couldn’t hide his wince, but luckily for him the woman blushed and looked down.

“Oh, I’m not betrothed,” she said, a hint of a shy giggle in her voice. She looked up in shock as he took her hands in his.

“Can I ask your name?” His voice was so soft that the music nearly drowned it out, but she heard, and her heart leapt.

“I’m Annie.”

“Well, Annie, would you dance with me?” And he led her to the centre of the dance floor where the already dancing couples quickly cleared a space for them. At a signal from Nina the orchestra changed to a simple slow little tune, and she and George watched with thrilled expressions as Mitchell wrapped his arms unacceptably tightly around the woman’s waist and pulled her almost inappropriately close.

“Oh my god,” George whispered, practically bouncing in his chair. “Mitchell’s in love.”

Slowly, as if realising something extraordinary was happening, people left the dance floor, and those standing on the edges talking gradually let their conversations die. Before long the only people moving in the hall were Prince Mitchell and the woman in his arms, who, despite a lot of whispering, no one seemed to be able to name. The tune came to an end, and the conductor simply started it from the beginning again, willing to bet that the couple dancing had no idea the tune had ended once already.

As everyone watched with bated breath, Mitchell’s hand slid slowly up from his lady’s waist until he was pulling her body closely against his, his head resting on top of hers. The silence seemed to affect her and she pulled away from him slightly.

“Everyone’s staring at us,” she whispered, trying to look around at the crowd without actually looking like she was looking. She heard a small laugh and looked up to see he was looking down at her, his eyes bright, a soft smile on his face.

“Can you blame them? You’re the most beautiful person in this room, Annie. Every man here is wishing he were me, and every woman here is wishing she were you.” His smile grew when he saw his words had made her blush and he took his hand away from her back to run a fingertip over one red cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed at his touch and as his hand slid down to her throat she couldn’t hold back the small sigh that slipped out from between her parted lips.

She was losing control, she knew it; her heart was pounding and her chest was heaving and she was honestly afraid that her legs were going to forget how to hold her upright. She clung to the one strand her sanity had left and forced herself to open her eyes again.

“But sir,” she said, stopping him as he was leaning in to kiss her. “I don’t even know your name.” She saw a look of confusion spread over his face, and then all hell broke loose.

There was a scream of fright from a group of women as they were pushed aside by two rough-looking young men brandishing knives. Down the stairs came three more, all screaming King Herrick’s name. Guards came running but they were too far away and within seconds of the first scream being uttered, three of the men who had come charging down the stairs had reached the centre of the nearly empty dance floor.

The guards were forced to turn back and defend themselves as more armed men slipped in through the garden doors. George jumped down from the platform while Nina ran to help clear the great hall of their guests. Annie stayed where she was, frozen by fear. When he had seen the men charging towards them, her love had pushed her away and spun to meet the attackers, blocking her from them with his own body. She had stumbled over her dress and now, as a hideous battle was raging around her, she didn’t dare move.

They was a cry of pain from behind her and she turned her head to see George pulling a knife from his arm. The sight spurred her into action and she clambered to her feet and headed for the doors where frantic maids were herding guests, an effort she was sure had been organised by Nina; the woman’s quick thinking was as legendary in the village as her acid tongue. There was a sudden cry of pain, and cheer of victory, and everything seemed to slow. She spun around, her breath catching in her throat as she saw the armed men fleeing the hall, guards and soldiers in livery she didn’t recognise giving chase. Several bodies were lying on the floor and she could only assume from the cheer she had heard that one of them must be the prince.

All she wanted to do was see her mystery man, to make sure he had survived the attack. But her head was spinning and someone was tugging her arm and encouraging her to run and she did, speed born of fear and desperation giving her wings. Even though they had a carriage to carry them home, Cinderella beat her stepfamily by several minutes; long enough to change out of the dress and put her patchwork clothes back on. She was so frantic and upset, she didn’t even realise that somewhere along the way she had lost a shoe.

She stood in an agony of indecision while Janey and her daughters hurried up the stairs; she wanted nothing more than to run and hide in her little room, but she didn’t dare leave in case they called for her. All she could think about was her love, fighting so bravely to aid the prince, a prince she hadn’t even seen. Her heart fluttered every time she thought of it, and her stomach clenched as she realised over and over that she had never even learnt his name, and now she didn’t know if he was alive or dead.

As the night wore on, and no summons were issued from upstairs, Cinderella lay on the floor and cried, knowing it was useless, but not knowing what else she could possibly do.

***

“He’s lost a lot of blood, the blade was dangerously close to his heart. Don’t let him get excited.” Nina’s voice was low, her face pale and drawn, and George held her close for a second before slipping into the room she had just walked out of. The sight that greeted him made his breath stick in his throat; Mitchell, his prince, his friend, was lying on a bed, blood already soaking through the bandages that swathed his chest.

On a table nearby was the dagger that had been plunged into him, the dagger that had come so close to killing him, and George felt a rush of gratitude towards the soldiers that had chased down and killed the men responsible. Part of him knew it would have been better if at least one of the attackers had been caught alive, but then he looked back to Mitchell, pale and still, streaks of blood still staining him, and he didn’t care about interrogations.

He sat next to Mitchell’s bed as the night slowly faded into the dawn, Nina coming in at least three times every hour to keep an eye on them both. She seemed happy with Mitchell’s condition, but George wouldn’t be happy until he was awake and out of bed again.

Finally, as the sun was touching the sky, Mitchell started to stir and George laid a gentle hand on his stomach to try to stop him from moving too much.

“It’s okay, Mitchell. You’re going to be fine,” he whispered while motioning to the maid to run for Nina. “Nina’s on her way; she’ll give you something for the pain.” Sure enough Mitchell’s face was a mask of agony, but he seemed to be trying to say something. George leant in nearer, but the door opened and Nina came running in before Mitchell caught enough breath to repeat himself.

“It’s okay, Mitchell, you’re doing just fine. Now, just breathe this in. You’ll go back to sleep, and when you wake up, you’ll feel better.” She held a small bottle under his nose, and for a second it looked as though he was trying to pull his face away, but the fumes were powerful. His head dropped to the side, his eyes slid closed, and he lay still.

There was sweat on his brow, his brief stint in consciousness having sapped him of all his energy, and Nina sighed heavily.

“What are his chances? Really?” George asked, taking her hand. “We need to let the people know if their prince is going to live or die.”

***

Cinderella awoke with a jump as Lucy’s voice echoed through the house.

“Mother? Mother! Have you heard? Prince Mitchell was stabbed in the attack last night! Right through the heart!” Her voice faded as she ran up the stairs, and Cinderella started getting the breakfast things ready, a feeling of numb despair sinking over her. If the prince were dead, his defenders must have failed and she knew that the men of the kingdom would protect their prince with their lives. Her mystery man must be dead.

As the day went on, Janey was too distracted to notice Cinderella wasn’t doing her usual chores, and Lucy and Daisy were too busy gossiping between themselves about how long they had danced with the prince and who else they had taken to the floor with to pay any attention to their step-sister. Every so often someone would start to talk about a woman with a grey dress, then glance at Cinderella, and cut themselves off mid sentence. 

News soon came through via various visitors that the prince was not dead, but gravely wounded and might not last the day. Janey and her daughters immediately fell to discussing which girl from the previous night he might marry if he were to survive, but Cinderella couldn’t shake off the grief she felt, for whether the prince were alive or dead, the fact remained that his attackers had reached him, and that meant her mystery man, her love, must have fallen. For a blissful hour or two she contented herself with the thought that he might not have been killed in the battle, that he might have chased after the murderous rogues. But then her memory, treacherous and wicked, forced her to replay over and over the scene that had played out in front of her before she had fled the room. Soldiers and guards had led the chase; there had been no sign of her man.

The next few days seemed almost to pass in a dream; the royal heralds carried regular updates about the prince’s condition, and four days after the ball, on the day it was announced that he was out of danger, all businesses were closed and the people took to the streets to celebrate. Spurred on by the freely available alcohol, several young ladies had to be reprimanded for disgracing themselves by fighting in public over who had danced longest with the prince, and young men walked around boasting how they had stood and helped protect him.

Janey had made good on her threat to keep Cinderella in the house and had taken to locking the doors and trapping her in the kitchen, but Cinderella couldn’t care less. She hadn’t spoken to anyone since the night of the ball, not that anyone had noticed, and was starting to lose weight from her already slender frame. All she was interested in was reliving the memory she had of that one perfect moment; her eyes closing as he leant in towards her, his arm holding her body against his, his lips achingly close to hers.

If she breathed deeply enough, she could almost conjure up the scent of him and remember the way it had seemed to cling to her even after she had changed her clothes. She would hold her breath until spots appeared in her eyes, trying to recapture the way her heart had jumped in her chest when he had taken her hands in his. She dallied over her chores, not caring what punishment was dreamt up for her now; Janey couldn’t take her memories from her, and her memories were all that mattered anymore.

***

“Dammit, George, what do you mean you can’t find her?” Mitchell doubled over and nearly fell to the floor as the strain of shouting tugged at the wound on his chest. George jumped forward and led Mitchell to a chair, biting down on the ‘I told you not to get worked up’ comment that threatened to make matters even worse.

“We’ve had people looking for her in all the neighbouring kingdoms; if she’s still here, she’s hidden herself away so deeply we can’t find her.” George looked at Mitchell’s pale face and almost left there and then, but his sense of duty wouldn’t let him and he cleared his throat.

“There is something that I think you should know.” George nearly backed out as Mitchell looked up at him, his eyes suddenly full of hope. “We picked up two men who were involved in the planning of the assassination attempt. Apparently the plan hinged on hiring a woman to…” He trailed off, the look on Mitchell’s face telling him that his friend suspected what he was going to say. The silence dragged out until Mitchell took a deep breath, hiding a wince of pain.

“Say it, George,” he said, his voice empty. “Make it official.”

“We now believe the lady you were dancing with at the time of the attack was hired by the dissidents to act as a distraction.” He hated himself for sounding so cold, but it was the only way he could say it without breaking down and offering sympathy, and he knew Mitchell would never accept sympathy. He watched as what little colour he had left slowly drained out of his friend’s face and opened his mouth to speak, but Mitchell beat him to it.

“Thank you, George. That will be all.” And just to make sure George knew he was no longer welcome, Mitchell pulled himself to his feet and walked out of his antechamber and into his bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him. As soon as the door clicked closed, he let the mask fall, naked pain showing in his eyes. He crossed slowly to a dresser and pressed down on an invisible switch; a hidden drawer slid open with a small click revealing a lady’s shoe nestled within.

As soon as he was well enough to make his way down the stairs, Mitchell had insisted on being taken to the great hall; thanks to some obscure and random law, no cleaning could be done there until he had looked over the scene himself. He’d found the shoe kicked under a chair and recognised it immediately as one Annie had been wearing. He had scoured the hall but there was no other sign of her and he felt a weight lift; no one seemed able to tell him what had happened to her, and he had been worried that his attackers had hurt her.

And now George was telling him she might have been working with them and he could feel his heart breaking at the thought; he loved her, he was sure of that, and he had been so sure that she felt the same. He sat on the side of his bed, still holding the shoe, and let his memory run over the night of the ball again.

He could still feel her in his arms, still smell her, still hear her, and for a second he thought he must be going mad. His eyes drifted closed and the memory became clearer; if this was madness, he didn’t want to be sane. Somewhere between his leaning down to kiss her, and her saying that she didn’t know his name, he fell asleep.

When he woke up, the shoe was gone.

***

‘Two weeks ago today I met, and lost, the love of my life’. Even in her own head it sounded absurdly melodramatic, but it was true, and she couldn’t think of any other way to express what had happened. Unfortunately she really didn’t think Janey would appreciate her saying something like that today; two of her father’s old friends were visiting and Janey was terrified of how they would react if they were to find how she was treating her stepdaughter.

She had bullied and threatened, but Cinderella just didn’t care anymore; she had longed to be rescued from her life, but, now there was no new life to dream of, she had no intention of saying anything to anyone about anything. She had stood passively while Janey had dressed her up in one of Lucy’s old dresses, smiled at the right time when her father’s old friends had re-introduced themselves, and trailed along behind the group as they walked to the palace.

One day every month, the prince’s private gardens were opened to the public and Janey had decided to take advantage of the weather and have a picnic, obviously equating eating outdoors with the sort of wholesome lifestyle she thought her dead husband’s friends would be expecting.

As soon as they entered the gates, Janey immediately started fussing over blankets and plates and Cinderella quickly bored of the preparations and wandered off, happy to take advantage of their company to get some time to herself. She had wondered that morning how she would handle seeing the palace again, and now that she was actually there she felt the same as she had for the last fortnight; numb and detached.

She wandered aimlessly around a tall hedge and froze in shock; he was there! Sprawled on the ground, the very embodiment of depression and dejection was her mystery man! She stood where she was, literally unable to speak or move, drinking in the sight of him until he shifted his head and saw her.

His mouth dropped open and for a second she thought maybe this was how they would spend eternity, locked in this position, staring in shock and hope but never daring to move closer to each other. Then he was on his feet and running towards her and suddenly she was in his arms being swung through the air as he spun her around and they were both laughing and crying and babbling over each other.

Finally they started to calm down, and he led her over to the spot where he had been lying and they sat together, his arm draped over her shoulder; he clearly had no intention of letting her go any time soon, and she was never going to object.

“Where have you been, Annie, love?” he asked, making her stomach jump. “I’ve had people looking for you and no one could find any trace of you. George even thought…” He trailed off, an odd look on his face, and Annie couldn’t resist pushing; she wanted to know everything about him, hear everything he had to say.

“George thought what?” The look her gave her made her wish she hadn’t asked, but he was already talking.

“He thought you might have been part of the assassination plot; that those men had hired you to distract me.”

”But why would they need to distract you? I mean, you fought spectacularly, but surely it would make more sense for them to distract the prince.” And just like that, it all fell into place.

She pulled away from him, a look of horror on her face.

“You? You’re Prince Mitchell?” He was reaching out for her, confused by her reaction, but she climbed to her feet before his hands could reach her.

“When were you going to tell me?” she demanded, forgetting that he had called her love, that he held her so tightly, in a rush of humiliation. A servant falling for a prince? It was all well and good in fairy tales and children’s stories but this was real life! It was unheard of!

Mitchell got to his feet, the open neck of his shirt slipping to reveal an ugly scar marring his chest. Her eyes locked onto the puckered skin and while she was distracted he took a step forward.

“I thought you already knew,” he said gently. “People usually recognise me.” And he wasn’t boasting; he was just stating a fact, and she felt the irrational rush of anger fade into gentle regret.

“Mitchell, I’m nothing, I’m no one, and you’re a price, soon to be king. You can’t love me.”

”Yes I can!” And he jumped forward and pulled her to him again. “I can love whomever my heart tells me to, and…” He pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, desperate to convince of his sincerity. “My heart is threatening to leave my body if I let you leave me again.”

She couldn’t help herself; her noble intentions to walk away from him for his own good melted away under his gaze and this time, as he lowered his lips to hers, there were no interruptions, there was nothing else in the world except the two of them. Nothing mattered, nothing even existed outside the feeling of their bodies pressing together, her fingers tangling themselves in his hair, his hands slipping down to the small of her back.

And suddenly she was on the ground, and he was above her, covering her body with his, but there was no passion in this embrace; Mitchell’s eyes were closed and a man was standing over them, hatred in his eyes. Annie started struggling to move, but before she could do anything the man lifted his foot and kicked Mitchell in the stomach, knocking him off Annie. She tried to run, turning onto her front and scrambling to her feet, but he was faster and he pounced on her and dragged her back.

“Scream, and I kill him in front of you,” he hissed. “I’ll make you watch as your lover’s blood drains from his body.”

Standing there, the man’s foul breath tickling her cheek, Mitchell lying so helpless in front of her, Annie felt Cinderella falling away from her in a rush of rage that made her kick her foot back and drag her heel down the man’s leg. He grunted in pain and his grip on her shifted, and she lowered her hand and sank her teeth into his hand, tasting blood.

He gave a howl of pain and, more importantly, dropped the knife. Annie fell to her knees, nerveless fingers scrambling in the grass. She could hear people shouting, in front of her Mitchell was stirring, but the man behind her was grabbing her, throwing her onto her back, raising his fist.

She closed her eyes and brought her hand up in a sweeping gesture, feeling the shock of impact run down her entire arm. The knife jerked in her grip and she let go, opening her eyes to see armed guards standing over her. One of them had grabbed her attacker and pulled him away, throwing him carelessly to the ground. No one heard him mutter King Herrick’s name, no one was paying him any attention.

Annie scrambled over to Mitchell, helping him sit up, holding him close, terrified by the sight of blood trickling lazily down the side of his face. George and Nina came running into the crowded clearing and while Nina went straight to Mitchell, George stopped dead at the sight of Annie.

“You? But you… we thought you…”

”She just saved my life, George.” Mitchell’s voice was shaky, but the look he directed George’s way was firm and, despite the few misgivings he still had, George felt a smile spread over his face and he stepped forward.

“Allow me to introduce myself, my lady,” he said grandly, making Mitchell and Nina both laugh. “George Sands, acting, and, now that you’re here, soon to be former, regent.”

There was a disruption at the back of the crowd and Janey pushed her way through, followed by Lucy and Daisy.

“What is going on here?” She caught sight of Annie and froze, a look of fury on her face. “What are you doing holding that man?” she hissed, advancing on the couple like a predator. She was stopped short by Nina stepping quite deliberately in front of her.

“That man is Prince Mitchell, and she is just accepting his marriage proposal.” She threw a look over her shoulder. “Weren’t you?”

Annie turned to see Mitchell looking as shocked as she felt, but, as she watched, a smile spread over his face, one that light up his eyes and made her want to laugh. He pulled himself away from her and took her hand in his.

“I don’t actually have a ring on me,” he admitted slightly sheepishly, and a ripple of snickers spread through the guards still surrounding them. He gave her a crooked smile and half laughed before pushing his hair out of his eyes and trying again.

“Annie, love, well, I guess it’s kind of obvious that I love you now,” and he laughed again, blushing slightly. She took pity on him and leant forwards, putting a finger lightly on his lips.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Mitchell, my love, yes.” And she let her eyes drift closed as Mitchell moved forwards and kissed her again.

And if anyone heard Janey’s choked gasps, no one cared.


End file.
